


(it seems there's no meaning without you)

by cranberrylime



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bromance to Romance, M/M, Masturbation Interruptus, Masturbation in Bathroom, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 02:22:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20858657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cranberrylime/pseuds/cranberrylime
Summary: When Sylvain agrees to tag along and find out who Felix's government-sponsored soulmate is over lunch, he assumes that it'll only be as a friend. A friend who wanted to weasel out a free birthday lunch — what? Sylvain didn'taskfor Felix to turn twenty-one at 1:59 PM, he's only reaping the benefits! — and a good time with his best bros. After all, he's never been paired with a soulmate, so the least he can do is tease-and-or-console Felix if nothing happens.Sylvain doesn't expect his own phone to light up with an email notification at the exact same time Felix's does.And hereallydoesn't expect Dimitri's phone to go off, either.





	(it seems there's no meaning without you)

Sylvain's phone buzzes with a flirty text from someone whose name he'd only saved as _Sexy-Ass Law Student_.

No matter how hard he strains to remember the most basic information — gender, age, and especially a real goddamn name — it doesn't come to him. But, practically speaking, that's not the biggest problem on his plate right now. Or even the biggest problem on his phone.

That dubious honor belongs to the unopened email alert blinking back at him from his inbox.

"Stop dragging your Nikes and open the damn thing," Felix snaps from his left, all hard angles and scowls. He doesn't like this mess anymore than Sylvain does. Well, Sylvain amends to himself, Felix never likes _any_ mess, not if they involve anything other than the sweat and grime of a long day forging his own antique-style swords.

"What if it's a glitch? Perhaps leaving it alone is the correct answer," argues Dimitri. Like they're in some kind of fucked up angel and devil on each shoulder play, he's sitting on Sylvain's right. Or maybe "sitting" isn't the right word for it; Dimitri's practically vibrating, nervous energy thrumming through his body and lighting his cheeks up red. It's oddly distracting to watch that blush creep down his neck.

Looking at the email or at either of them feels almost like acknowledging there's a problem in the first place. Sylvain would rather not, thank you very much.

He takes another bite of his macaroni and cheese instead. It's a little bit crunchy in that way he's not sure is on purpose, and then he doesn't have time to analyze his food anymore, because Felix is lifting him up collar-first in the middle of this perfectly nice diner.

It would almost be hot. That is, if Sylvain hadn't already condemned all thoughts of Felix and his aforementioned hotness to the recycling bin in his brain. Where it belongs, and where it's going to stay, and wow he's still in the air. Feet off the ground despite his several inches of height over Felix.

_Wow_.

Dimitri's move forward to swipe Sylvain's phone off the table is a welcome distraction. So much for Dimitri being the cautious voice of reason, Sylvain scoffs to himself, because the movement is less of a calm approach and more of a hungered lunge. His traitorous blond friend's thumbing open the email app and scanning it in the blink of an eye. Literally — Dimitri's lone eye rushes over the message faster than both of Sylvain's eyes put together have ever read anything.

Then something tiny in Dimitri's gaze crumples. Just a little bit. Like he'd almost been expecting something else, anything, hoping with all his might.

"Sylvain got _you_, Felix," he says. There it is. _FELIX HUGO FRALDIUS_ in big, declarative title letters, sitting atop a cheap gif of cartoon stick people holding hands that the government could definitely afford to do better. The atmosphere at the table becomes decidedly uncomfortable.

"Why the hell did you get _me_," Felix snaps, shaking Sylvain by the neck of his commemorative "The Allies Totally Dominated at the Battle of the Bulge" T-shirt. Idly, Sylvain wonders if all of this might be a plan to get rid of that same shirt, which Ingrid once called "something so bizarrely out of touch it's incomprehensible" and Felix refers to as the "ugliest thing ever sewn, where did you get it, I'll kill them myself". Would they all go to that much trouble…?

He's not ruling the possibility out. It has some pretty nasty ketchup stains.

But Felix seems far more worried about his own assignment than anything Sylvain is wearing. About the email that says _DIMITRI ALEXANDRE BLAIDDYD_ in the same ugly font, from the same official address. With a cough from Dimitri — whose phone screams _SYLVAIN JOSE GAUTIER_ like the text is trying to fully blind all three of them — Felix lets Sylvain go and scoffs at his lasting silence.

"Cat got your tongue?"

Sylvain pouts, patting himself down again. "Even if it had, I'd tell Dimitri, not you."

"I-I don't think I could help you with your tongue," Dimitri grumbles. It's weak. A barely-there mumble that his blazing red face only draws more attention to.

Kicking back in his chair with a cold confidence both Sylvain and Dimitri know he doesn't feel, Felix eyes them, contemplative. He's clearly not in the mood to go around in wordplay circles (that anyone with sense would call flirting) today. That's a line Sylvain and his terrified nutsack both know not to ever cross.

"We're agreed that we're ignoring this until they contact us with the correct matches?" Dimitri is already nodding when Sylvain turns to scan him for the answer they'll be going with as a group.

So.

Sylvain nods, sits back down in his chair, and puts it all out of his mind.

—

Except that he doesn't.

As soon as Sylvain steps into his shared apartment, his dick is threatening to burst out of his pants. He's almost painfully hard, more than regretting the ill-fitting jeans he'd pulled on that morning to irritate the living hell out of Felix, and remembering the looks on his friends' faces is starting to drive him crazy.

If that three-way match is a sign from some kind of god, Sylvain doesn't really want to hear it right now. He does, however, take a moment to thank whichever god — maybe the same one? — that decided to keep his lovebird roommates out of the apartment. Shuffling to the bathroom while two upsettingly perceptive women were honeymooning on their enormous living room couch sounds like Sylvain's idea of hell.

Maybe he'd feel differently if they weren't his close friends and if they actually gave a shit about men, but the circumstances are what they are. And the "circumstances" are that his dick is _way_ too hard for him to think about so much stupid bullshit right now.

As the bathroom door locks behind him, the seal on his thoughts bursts open like a dam that will never work properly again. Dimitri bites his lips a lot when they're together, doesn't he? Sylvain always noticed that, has noticed it a thousand times, is now thinking of the sharpness of his canines rubbing those lips raw as he eases his own dick out of his pants. What would that feel like on his dick?

Sylvain squeezes, shudders out a breath. Would Dimitri be clumsy, or was there experience hiding behind his gently thoughtful words and near-monstrous strength?

That strength was a good thing. It was a _great_ thing. Stroking a thumb across the weeping tip, Sylvain imagines Dimitri picking him up and pinning him to the wall, dragging those canines down his neck hard enough to leave blood. Dimitri would never do anything to hurt anyone on purpose; the thought alone would probably break his heart.

_I'm so sorry,_ he'd gasp, _let me make it up to you, oh dear Goddess, I can't believe I…_

Is that why Sylvain finds it hot? Because he knows it'll never actually happen, but if it did, Dimitri would still be unflinchingly kind to somebody like him?

Someone who wants Dimitri to grab his hips and slam into him hard enough to bruise? Who wants to see what it would feel like if he tangled his fingers in that short blonde ponytail? Or who can never, ever, ever ask for all the things he wants so badly that they just might kill him?

Fuck, he needs to stop thinking so much about this before his dick goes limp again.

_You better not be forgetting about me, you short-minded scumbag_, another voice hisses in his ear. It's so real that Sylvain has to glance in the mirror to confirm that he's alone. Like always, he is.

The image of Felix smirking up at him is clear as day behind his closed eyelids, though, so he opts for that instead.

There's so much about Felix's bad attitude that Sylvain can't help but cherish. Both in a sexy way, because obviously, and in an almost romantic way. But he's not here to imagine a Felix with the same kind smile that he used to have when they were still young — he's here to think about the Felix who'd probably scoff at his rock-hard dick and call him a slut.

Hey, that's all Sylvain could honestly ask for.

Because Felix is _beautiful_, the toned lines of his legs and the tired bags under his eyes that do nothing to make his gaze any less sharp. Sylvain wouldn't mind being taken apart by Felix's mouth, fingered and teased to the edge until he fell apart so thoroughly that he couldn't put himself back together again. Like a nightmarish version of Humpty Dumpty from some edgy artist's portfolio of terrible fairy tale reinterpretations.

An actually relevant thought finally springs into his sex-addled brain. His dick twitches in response.

"What if I sucked both of them off," Sylvain mutters to himself. "That'd be so, fuck, so, so good? It'd be so good. I know it would."

He stumbles forward and lets himself fall onto the knees. One hand on the counter for balance is enough. Not that Sylvain has ever done this before, or anything, not like this has been something he's played out in his head a dozen times. Panting hard enough to feel a little dizzy, Sylvain pumps faster.

The thought of Felix and Dimitri's dicks pressed together as he strains to take them both in his mouth at once, but they're so big, he can't —

"Hands in the air right now, Sylvain!"

And that's Mercedes, who is very much actually there, and very pissed that Sylvain is jerking it under the watchful eyes of her paper-mâché Virgin Mary statue in their guest bathroom.

The guest bathroom that he had apparently left unlocked after all.

_Shit_.

**Author's Note:**

> on god i'm gonna get you some dude ass sylvain


End file.
